Little by little

A disturbed teen is sent to a new foster home, something which she is not very happy about. She expects to be thrown out after a week, however, she didn’t count on the determination of her new foster – parent…

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Hi! Here’s your friendly neighbourhood author – and here is a piece of work that’s meant to challenge me – you see, I’m not entirely proud of this work, but it’s part of the story I wrote called “The End”. You don’t need to read it (best if you don’t, as this is a pre-quel) but here I’m writing about the sort of character I can’t stand. This is a story about your average tragic heroine of modern literature – displaced, angry and lacking a sense of humour about herself. Well – if I’ve done my job right she should be annoying, but sympathetic, but I think I might have made her, and George (nice George that is) a bit of a caricature.

Okays – what is it all about? Well, I shall actually tell you now – The plot is about Lauren and George, their relationship, their life, their…well, whatever. Set in the not-to-distent future as my exploration of modern society and its morality, and what I think will be the result of it – it’s not sci fi, but it does allow me to explore how I think our generation will act – its not political, but well, it’s not about being a Conservative or anyone else, but about sorting out the moral mess we seem to be in at the moment – for American readers it’d probably be helpful if you know a bit of English politics, but I’m, pretty sure you will recognise a lot of this in modern America. Set In England because it’s all I know, but I know nothing about being fostered, being in a special school or being disabled, so please tell me where I’m wrong – I am a fool in these areas and probably should research them better.

But I digress – please read.

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Prologue – Anytime

And the fear is so contagious

But I’m not afraid to laugh

I could go anytime

There’s nothing safe about this life.

Anytime – Neil Finn

It was another boring Thursday afternoon. Of all the afternoons of the week, Lauren found that Thursday managed to be the most boring – it was the day she was most tired, and with the least chance of resting. Therefore it was the perfect afternoon for the most boring lesson she had – Maths. It was just a perfect mixture for Lauren to be driven to distraction with boredom.

It was the afternoon that volunteer “Maths George” came in and presently he was bitching at her to work. He was a retired maths teacher who had obviously sent many a pupil to an early grave due to boredom. The main teacher was still explaining fractions and frankly Lauren didn’t really give a damn.

Lauren attended one of the few special schools still open in England, after the Labour party had tried to close them down and the conservatives a couple of generations later had put a metaphorical pillow over the funds and starved the special schools of cash. In the year 2054 Lauren was what could loosely be described at the detritus of past generations – taken into care when she was five because her parents couldn’t, she’d been shifted from care home to foster family to care home for most of her life, and frankly, she was quiet jaded with the whole process by now. Right now she’d been at this care home for a year – long enough to do GCSE’s at, but she knew she was going to be moved soon. She knew why – because she was at logger heads with the care workers, but she had no proof that she was about to be got rid of.

However, Lauren didn’t want to be moved on – she liked being in one place, just like everyone else, and was determined that if she was moved on she’d find a way to come back where she was now – here, with the few friends she was starting to make. Lauren wasn’t the friendliest person – but she reserved her venom for adults and those who made fun of her for having ADHD and Dyslexia, so making friends wasn’t the problem – it was being in one place long enough and not speaking her mind that was.

“Lauren, are you listening?” asked Maths George. Lauren looked up, avoiding his face. She felt like telling him that she wasn’t, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Instead she nodded and picked up her safety-pencil. She looked at the others in the class. There were downs kids, a couple of other ADHD kids, some with cerebral palsy, a couple of kids who just had emotional problems and even one foetal alcohol syndrome kid who was playing with blocks – why on earth anyone thought that they would be able to do GCSE’s was beyond her. She couldn’t, and frankly wouldn’t do them. They were a year away and already she hated the classes. Being a special school there wasn’t much choice as far as subjects went – just the usual sorts of things, science, English, history and geography, R.S, Drama and of course, Maths. As Maths George put the worksheet in front of her and she tried to focus on it, she realised that she would rather have been playing outside.

Well, maybe not playing, but hanging around and maybe running.

“Right, what’s the smallest denominator in 18/30s?” said Maths George in his most patronising voice. Lauren rolled her eyes, but so he couldn’t see. “Okay, what do you do first?”

“Half it?”

“Very good! Now, what is half of 18?”

“Nine.” Lauren said after a moment of heavy concentration.

“And half of thirty?”

“…fifteen.” Replied Lauren, deciding to let her brain take a backseat as Maths George would force thoughts out of her.

“Okay, write them both down.” Lauren did as she was told. Dear God she wished they’d let her wear a watch – she didn’t know how long it would be before the bell. She felt like breaking everything if she could just leave. She felt the hairs in the back of her neck rise up as the anger seemed to accumulate along her back.

“Now, can you think of a number that 9 and 15 both divide by?”

“Two” she said stupidly – she knew she was wrong, but couldn’t be bothered with the answer.

“No, try again.” Lauren looked at his watch as Maths George wiped his red face – it was forty minutes before she could go.

“Four” she said, giggling.

“No, it’s not right.” He said, obviously losing patience with her. Lauren looked over at Herbert, a downs syndrome Kid sitting at the next table – he giggled at her, seeing exactly what she was doing. Maths George signed and said, “Anything divisible by four is divisible by two.” and droned on about how the numbers fitted together, but Lauren looked over at Herbert and crossed her eyes at him Lauren giggled. Herbert giggled back at her. His volunteer helper told him to stop and he did, but seeing the stupidity of it all she giggled harder.

“Lauren…”

Lauren started to titter, then she started to snigger uncontrollably.

“Lauren, are you still listening to me?”

Lauren laughed. She laughed a fully hearted, belly laughed and then fell into hysterics. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t hear what people were saying to her.

“Lauren, are you alright?” he snapped.

Lauren laughed in his face, took a deep breath and laughed some more.

“Lauren, you should go outside until you’ve calmed down…” said Maths George.

Lauren laughed, feeling weak, and fell down a couple of times before she left the room, disrupting the whole class who’d also begun to giggle. As she fell completely limp for the third time Maths George grabbed her arm roughly and said, “Get out Lauren!”

Lauren giggled, frogmarched out by Maths George who propped her against the wall and hissed – “You can’t keep quiet for one moment, can you? Now stay there until you’ve calmed down.”

As he went back in, Lauren continued to giggle, and stood in the hallway, thankfully close to a clock. It was an analogue clock, so the Kids would find it hard to read and therefore to stop them clock-watching at school. Lauren continued to giggle, but was unable to keep it up long – it felt so nice to be standing in the quiet, cool hall, alone, away from so many distractions – it calmed down the mind. She sighed, still quietly chuckling when she heard a voice say “You got out of maths then?”

She turned around and saw Nice George grinning at her, leaning against the hall with a naughty glint in his eye. Lauren would have described him as being around twenty five in age, about six foot in height and with stupid black hair which looked like he had tried to tame it, but had now taken to letting it do its own thing. He slouched in his oversized t-shirt with a picture of a cartoon character on it and his large jeans, looking somehow casual, yet like he knew exactly what was going on. She smiled back, and suppressing her fit of hysterics for a moment said, “Yeah.”

“Third week in a row, eh?”

“Yeah.”

Nice George ran his hand through his hair and said, “Ha ha, I’m onto your little game! Well, that’s okay, I used to do the same with my general studies lessons.”

“General studies…” she asked.

“Don’t ask – no one does it any more.” He smirked, “Anyway, I’m sure there’s something more constructive you could be doing.”

“I dunno.” Lauren said truthfully, “I suppose I’m meant to be being punished or something.”

“Nah, they don’t want to be doing that.” He said, “It never works with you.”

Lauren sighed and suddenly felt herself turn blue – like the warm joy had been sapped out. “I miss you, “she said, “I liked it when I did maths with you. I used to understand. Now it’s too hard.”

George looked concerned for a second – “Really, what’re you doing?”

“Fractions. I don’t get it – what are they for?”

“What kind of fractions?”

“Y’know, making them small.” She said, “Stuff like the smallest denominator of nine twenty firsts.”

“That’s three.” Nice George said instantly.

“How?”

“What’s the number that nine divides into?”

“Three.”

“And what does twenty one divide into?”

“Emmm……..”

“If you can’t split it by two…well, add up all its numbers. What is two and one?” he held up the fingers on his hands

“Three?” she grinned.

“There you go – smallest common denominator is three.” He smiled.

She suddenly felt satisfied. She looked at him for a moment and said, “I liked the session you came to last week in English – I think I’m starting to get Steinbeck, even if his works jump around the page.”

He laughed and said, “Steinbeck’s like that – but ‘Of Mice and Men’ is a good book.”

“If slightly distasteful as this place is full of Lenny’s.” Lauren replied. There was a slightly silence before she said, “I wish you could foster me – I like you a lot.”

George sighed and said, “You aren’t sick of me yet then?”

“No, I saw you a lot last term, but I don’t like the way they’ve re organised everything. The George I have now is an ass – I heard that at his last school he got kicked out for oggiling one of the girls. I’m glad I’m not clever enough to be any object of his affection.” She stuck out her tongue in displeasure, making Nice George laugh before she hugged him and told him, “It doesn’t matter – I’m too old to be helped.”

“You’re never too old to be helped, Kiddo, “He said, patting her on the arm. She looked up at him with her bright eyes into his Dark grey ones, his hair towering over her in its calculated mess, lit up by the twinkle of a stray canine tooth. She let go of him and he patted her on the shoulder affectionately before he walked off. He took a couple of steps before he turned around and said – “Lauren, if you want any help with maths, just stop me.”

“I will.” She said, here eyes suddenly bright. As he walked off she leaned back, her giggling fit over, but too full of energy to have to sit still and listen. She sighed and the door to the classroom opened – “Have you calmed down.” Said Maths George.

“Yeah.” She lied and skipped back into the classroom.

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That’s for reading – please click on the next chapter, but do say what you think. Ta loads, Xandra the Blue.